Survive, Stanley!
by The Blue-eyed Storier
Summary: Stanley decides he is fed up with the Narrator ordering him around. But when he goes through a mysterious door, he finds himself in a completely different story! The odds may not be in Stanley's favor, but at least he has the Narrator to help him! But will it be enough?
1. Part I

Survive, Stanley!

(Stanley Parable and the Hunger Games Crossover)

Part I

"_When Stanley reached a set of two open doors, he took the one to his left." _

Employee 427, otherwise known as Stanley, frowned. His terror at finding himself completely alone in his usually busy office building had slowly faded, giving way to annoyance. The Narrator seemed to think he had all rights to control Stanley's story. He told Stanley exactly where to go and sometimes narrated Stanley's train of thought as if he actually knew what Stanley was thinking.

"I'm tired of you," Stanley muttered.

_"But Stanley decided to stand around for a little while longer and mutter to himself as he tried to tell his left from his right,"_ the Narrator said dryly.

"I'm not that stupid!" Stanley whined, running a hand through his short brown hair the color of a singed brownie.

_ "Says a man who so far has spent every single day of his life mindlessly pushing buttons,"_ the Narrator drawled.

"That's it!" Stanley snapped. His back rigid, he marched towards the door on the right.

_ "Wait…Stanley, what are you doing?" _

Wordlessly Stanley opened the door and stepped into a darkly lit room. The only light came from screens on the walls on either side of him. They were filled with words and numbers that looked meaningless and out of place. At the end of the room stood a door that looked like all the other plain, normal office doors except for one thing. It had a golden mark painted onto the door that looked like a fiery circle enclosing a flying bird of some sort. There was also a piece of paper taped onto the door with words scrawled onto it.

'TEST DOOR - OFF LIMITS.'

_"No, Stanley, go back or you'll permanently ruin the story! Do you even know what you're doing? No, no you don't, because otherwise you'd-"_

Blocking out the Narrator's rush of words, Stanley stubbornly wrapped his fingers around the door knob.

Something deep within him trembled. _Don't go in there, _it hissed. _Just listen to the Narrator and everything will turn out alright! _

"It's just a door," Stanley said, even though he knew by now that things in this place were not always as they seemed.

"_Stanley, listen to me _right_ now! This is not supposed to happen! I'm simply trying to help you! Please don't-"_

Stanley opened the door.

_"No!"_ the Narrator screamed as Stanley's world was flooded with a blinding white light.


	2. Part II

Part II

When Stanley opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a strange, circular elevator with glass walls, unlike the roomy, boxy ones he was used to at the building where he constantly worked. This elevator also moved much faster than the other ones. It rose upwards so sharply that Stanley felt his stomach drop and he felt slightly queasy. He jumped as a voice suddenly spoke out.

_"Stanley! You're absolutely mad! How could you – wait a minute. Where are we?" _

_ Oh great. He's still here? _Stanley thought with some annoyance, but he was actually also slightly relived. The unfamiliar elevator was starting to unnerve him.

There was a long pause, which was promptly split by a sharp gasp from the Narrator. _ "Oh no! Stanley, what have you done? You've taken us into another story, and this one is horrible, just horrible! Not only have you messed up our story, but now I'm sure you've messed up this one as well!_

Stanley frowned. Was the Narrator just rambling away, or was he really serious?

The Narrator spoke again, though now in a quiet, subdued voice. _"Well. If this is what you want, this is what you'll get." _Then he spoke again, his voice almost as strong and confident as it had been when Stanley had first heard him, though perhaps a bit harsher.

"_Stanley traveled steadily towards the surface, along with twenty-four other tributes. Ahead of him lay certain death, unless Stanley could muster the courage to take down every other competitor. And for a man that has done nothing but push buttons, it should be an easy challenge."_

"What?" Stanley started to say more, but the words died in his throat as the elevator reached the surface and he found himself in a huge clearing. Scattered around him were countless other people, standing tensely and not moving a step. For a moment Stanley peered at them curiously, almost expecting them to be his co-workers. To his disappointment, they weren't. None of them even looked like they could be over the age of twenty, except two tall, muscular looking boys not far from where Stanley stood.

"_Stanley stood exactly still, because if he stepped one inch onto the grass before the timer was complete, he would be blown into millions of tiny pieces." _

"What!?" Stanley shouted. "Now I know you're just making this all up."

"_Am I?"_ the Narrator asked dangerously.

Sweat beaded on Stanley's forehead. "Uh…well…you have to be, because…because…" His voice trailed off as he realized there was a voice coming through a loudspeaker somewhere.

"Can you just tell me what story I'm in?"

The Narrator did not reply.

"Five…four…three…two…one!" And with that, the teenagers around Stanley sprang into action. A frenzy ensured. Some teenagers grabbed objects off of the ground, which others just started running. One girl flew across the field and disappeared into the woods, her long brown braid swinging wildly behind her. Stanley, on the other hand, remained rooted where he was. A piercing scream grabbed his attention and he turned to see the remaining teenagers engaged in a fierce, bloody battle.

_"As Stanley just stood there with his mouth hanging open stupidly, a blond girl not far away drew her silver bow and aimed it directly at his head."_

Stanley yelped and ducked. An arrow whizzed overhead with a sharp twang. The sound echoed in Stanley's petrified ears. But still he did not run. Instead, he gaped at the struggling teenagers and remembered something his co-worker Jeff had talked about just the other day.

"Zombies!" he gasped in horror. "Some of them are zombies!"

And with that, he ran.


	3. Part III

Part III

At first, terror fueled Stanley's flight. But, being a man whose only job was sitting in a chair pushing buttons all day, Stanley was badly out of shape. Soon he was huffing and puffing, and he stumbled along rather than ran.

"_Run, Stanley. Or the zombies will catch you,"_ the Narrator said, amusement hiding in the sides of his voice.

_Is he making fun of me?_ Stanley wondered. He was almost too tired to care. A quick glance behind him revealed that no zombies were after him. Wheezing heavily, he staggered against a tree and rested. However, his nerves started up again after a while, and he started walking again. The trees were tall and loomed over him, blocking out most of the sunlight. When the wind rustled through the leaves there were so many that they made a roaring sound.

After a while the Narrator spoke again. _"You're still not supposed to be here, Stanley. If you don't leave this story soon, it could start falling apart completely."_

"How do I leave?" Stanley asked breathlessly.

"_Well…I'm still working on it." _

Stanley made a face and kept walking. After some time he noticed something small and black poking out of a bush. "A blackberry!" he exclaimed happily, as his stomach was knotted with hunger. He plucked the shining black fruit off of the bush, his mouth filling with saliva.

"_Completely unaware that the fruit he held was in fact not a blackberry, but rather a poisonous nightshade berry, Stanley popped the delicious looking berry into his mouth."_

Instantly Stanley choked and spat out the berry. "You could have told me that sooner!" he yelped.

"_You didn't listen to me when I said not to go through that door, so I didn't think you'd listen to me now,"_ the Narrator replied huffily.

"I'm sorry," Stanley muttered. And honestly, he _was_ sorry. Sorry he'd ever decided to go through that stupid right door.

Somewhere in the distance there was a far off scream. Stanley flinched.

"_If I were you I'd keep walking,"_ the Narrator said, his voice low. Stanley did so, picking up his pace.

After what seemed like forever, the sky began to grow dark. A slight chill hung in the air, and Stanley found he was shivering. _Is it fear or just the cold? _he wondered. _Probably both._

It grew darker and darker. The shadows cast by the trees turned deep blue and finally black. Stanley kept his eyes and ears open for the slightest sound. The last thing in the world he wanted to be was a zombie. Suddenly, he heard a soft whimpering noise. It sounded choked, as though the person was trying to hold back their sobs. Cautiously Stanley crept towards the noise. _After all, zombies don't cry,_ he assured himself. _At least, I don't think they do. I've never met one until now._

"_Closer and closer Stanley walked towards the sound, little realizing that it was a trap. In mere seconds he would be skewered by a-"_

Stanley froze in his tracks, eyes bulging. A soft laugh met his ears. "_Just kidding. That time,"_ the Narrator chuckled.

"It's not funny," Stanley muttered. He was embarrassed as his voice squeaked on the last word. The moment he spoke the crying stopped and there was a terrified gasp. Stanley walked a few steps closer and finally saw the source of the crying. It was a thin, small boy with bright blue eyes and light brown hair. Tears glinted on his cheeks. He was wearing the same black jacket and long pants the other teenagers had been wearing. He was lying huddled between two large roots of a massive oak tree.

For a long moment the two stared at each other.


	4. Part IV

Part IV

"Please don't kill me!" the boy begged, gripping the roots around him tightly. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he swallowed once and was quiet.

"Don't worry. I'm not a zombie," Stanley replied, sinking down with a sigh of relief. "Do you have any food?

The boy stared at him, confused. "I have some crackers," he whispered, pulling out a small orange bag from between his legs. As he fumbled through it, Stanley realized the boy's hands were shaking. He also noticed that the boy looked very malnourished.

"Here." Two crackers were thrust towards him. Stanley thought suddenly of all the Cokes he had drunk and all the dozens of cookies he had eaten at his office building's snack bar. "Actually, you eat it. You need it more than me," he said quickly.

"_Aww. Making friends, are we? Too bad that boy won't last two seconds if you're ever found. Of course, you'd only last three seconds, so what does that matter?"_

"Be quiet," Stanley snapped.

"I didn't say anything," the boy replied, startled. A cracker was halfway to his mouth.

"You can't hear him?"

"Hear who?"

Stanley scratched his head. "Um…never mind."

"Are you teaming with me?" the boy asked after a while. He wiped at his face with his sleeve.

"Um…I guess," Stanley replied. He tried to remember what Jeff had said about zombie apocalypses. Usually the survivors did team up in groups to help each other stay alive. "Yeah, sounds like a good idea."

The boy laughed softly. "I can't believe…I just can't believe you'd team with me."

"Are there others to choose from?"

"Sort of…"

There was another silence, in which was heard only the sound the boy gulping down water from a canteen. Finally Stanley spoke up again.

"What's your name?"

"Jalin. I'm from District 10. What's yours?"

"I'm Stanley. I'm from Cleveland."

"Um...what district is that?"

"I don't know."

Jalin was quiet for a moment. "It's probably the stress. My dad said that a lot of tributes have a hard time remembering things from their old life once they're in the arena. He says it's due to stress and the dramatic change in their surroundings."

"I know how that feels," Stanley murmured. "I miss my office. I miss pushing buttons. There aren't _any_ buttons here."

"I used to work with my dad on machinery. But then I got in an accident at the factory that crippled me, and he wouldn't let me go back. So Mom had to work extra hard to keep me and my siblings all fed. I tried to help by buying food through name slips. But I still didn't think there was much of a chance that I'd get picked. Guess I was wrong."

Stanley thought around how the Narrator had picked him, or at least had seemed to pick him to be the one whose story would be narrated. Somehow, everyone else had disappeared, and Stanley had been the one left behind. Was it because he was special - or because he was stupid?

"We should be quiet now," Jalin whispered. "Otherwise they might find us."

"You're right," Stanley thought, shuddering as zombies flashed through his mind. He huddled up next to Jalin and soon fell asleep.


	5. Part V

Part V

As Stanley slept, he dreamed he was standing in a circle. Surrounding him were zombie teenagers, all armed to the teeth with weapons and drooling wretchedly. Jalin stood by his side, trembling like a leaf. And there, in front of Stanley, was a large purple button on a stand.

_"Push the button, Stanley. Push the button and it will all go away. That simple button will solve all of your problems,"_ the Narrator was saying.

"Finally!" Stanley cried. "Finally something I know how to do!" He pushed the button as a huge grin stretched across his face.

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Stanley moaned. Someone was shaking him. And for some weird reason, his whole body was sore and aching. It was still dark, and it took him a while to focus on the small figure above him.

"What is it, Jalin?" Suddenly he sat up. "Are the zombies attacking?"

"Zombies? No, you've just been dreaming."

"Oh, ok," Stanley mumbled. He got to his feet and stretched. "I never want to sleep against a tree again!" he complained.

"It does make you sore, I know," Jalin murmured. "But that should be the least of our worries." He glanced around. "We need to be constantly on the move. That lessens our chance of being caught – I think." He started limping away, and Stanley noticed for the first time that one of his legs was crippled.

Soon afterwards Stanley and Jalin were treading quietly through the forest, munching on crackers. Well, at least, Stanley _tried _to tread quietly. Instead it seemed like _every_ time he took a step some sort of dry leaf or stick crunched underneath. Eventually the Narrator pointed that out to poke fun at him, but Stanley gritted his teeth and ignored him.

"Do zombies have good hearing?" he asked after a while.

Jalin blinked. "Um...I have no idea."

Due to Stanley's pathetic lack of endurance, and Jalin's crippled leg, they soon became exhausted. Stanley was crestfallen when Jalin announced that they were out of crackers.

"You rest while I go look for some food. Who knows? Maybe there will even be a house around here with nice people who can help us," Stanley announced hopefully.

Jalin laughed. "I've seen it pretty bad with some people, but hunger is really messin' up your mind," he declared.

"You can't blame me for being optimistic," Stanley said, insulted.

Jalin leaned against a tree and dropped his pack on the ground. "How about this? You go around and check for some berry bushes. I passed by a few before I met you, so I know the game makers left some out here. Just watch out for the nightshade berries. To be safe, don't pick anything black."

"Most definitely," Stanley mumbled. After about seven minutes of walking he saw a clearing up ahead through the trees. And standing in the center of it was a boy.

The boy looked about sixteen, had short blond hair and soft blue eyes. His black clothes were streaked with mud, and he looked rigid and alert. There didn't appear to be any rotting flesh anywhere on his body, but Stanley studied him for a few more seconds from behind a tree just to make sure. Then he bravely stepped into the clearing.

The boy jumped in surprise. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gaping for air, but he looked too startled to say anything.

"Don't worry, I'm not a zombie," Stanley assured him. He chuckled inwardly. _I've never scared anyone before. How funny. _"By the way, do you have any food?"


	6. Part VI

Part VI

The boy finally found words to speak. "Who the heck are you?"

"I'm Stanley," Stanley said warmly. He was so happy to find another living human in this dangerous place that he couldn't help but feel a warmth rise in his chest.

"Hey Peeta? Is someone else there?" A youthful yet rough voice called from somewhere in the trees behind the boy. Something in the tone frightened Stanley. He took a step back uncertainly.

"I was just talking to myself," Peeta replied.

"Well shut up. Someone might hear you."

Peeta released a pent-up sigh. His face struggled between multiple emotions as he stared at Stanley. Finally his face twisted into an expression of anger, and he spoke in a hoarse whisper.

"Look. I don't know who you are, but you are seriously the most stupid tribute I've ever seen. Do you want to get yourself killed?"

Stanley paled and rapidly shook his head.

"Then get out of here. If the Careers see you they'll take you down in seconds. You're lucky I'm not half as cold-hearted as they are. Now get out of here!"

Stanley immediately obeyed. He turned and crashed through the trees as fear overtook him. The strange hostility of the boy had taken him completely by surprise. And that other voice – he'd heard murder within its tone.

_"Wow, Stanley. You've shown an incredible lack of intelligence, but I must say, this truly tops the charts," _the Narrator announced. _"You sound louder than a pack of stampeding buffaloes. You might as well have a strobe light strapped to your back." _He chuckled._ "That would certainly make the game interesting."_

Stanley gulped. In his panic he'd completely forgotten to be quiet. The sounds of shouting and running met his ears.

"Peeta you idiot! You're letting him get away! How useless can you be!"

Stanley's breath came in gasps as he tore through the forest. He tried to remember where he'd left Jalin.

"Over this way," he whispered. "To the right of the trees. Just after the-" And then he reached Jalin. The boy was on his feet with wide, panicked eyes like a deer preparing to flee.

"Some kids are chasing me!" Stanley panted. "I don't know if they're zombies or what. All I know is that they don't like me!"

Without a word Jalin joined Stanley as he ran. He limped heavily and clung to Stanley's arm for support. After a while of hard running he gave out small cries of pain. "Keep running," Jalin gasped. "I'll stop and hide in a bush somewhere or something. But I can't go on."

Stanley may have been stupid, but he recognized terror when he heard it. Jalin knew it was either run, or die.

"No! Keep going!" he begged. A loud thunk was heard and Stanley turned slightly to see an arrow sticking in a tree that Jalin had just stumbled past.

"Dang! My aim sucks while I'm running!" came the sharp, frustrated cry of a girl not far behind them.

Jalin was now sobbing. His lungs heaved in and out irregularly like a broken bellows and his grip on Stanley began to weaken.

"What do I do?" Stanley screamed to the Narrator, not caring about anything else anymore.


	7. Part VII

Part VII

_"I strongly suggest you carry the boy,"_ the Narrator replied quickly, without a trace of his usual sneer. Apparently he somewhat realized the gravity of the situation.

Desperately Stanley heaved Jalin onto his back. The boy wrapped his arms around Stanley's neck and clung to him with a death-like grip. But it was no use. Their pursuers was gaining on them. More arrows flew by, and Stanley was sure the next one would find its mark somewhere on him.

"Narrator! Haven't you found a way out of here yet?" Stanley yelled, tearing downhill through clusters of dry grass.

"Stop screaming," Jalin choked. "You're scaring me."

The Narrator finally replied after what seemed to Stanley like forever.

_"Alright. I've got an idea, Stanley, though I have no idea if it's going to work. But since you've already messed up this world's reality, it probably will."_ He took a deep, important-sounding breath. _"As Stanley ran, he noticed a door in his path that led straight back to the room he'd come from."_

Stanley lifted his gaze. His eyes were stinging from the sweat running down his forehead, but the pain vanished when he saw a clean white door directly in front of him. It looked completely and utterly out of place, and Stanley thought to himself that he had never seen a more beautiful door.

"I hope this works!" he shouted, bursting through the door.

Instantly he was engulfed by a brilliant light. He heard several frightened shrieks from behind him, but after a few seconds they faded.

Eventually he was aware of his body sprawled on a carpeted floor. Blinking to adjust to the dim light, he dragged himself to his feet and realized Jalin was on top of him, still shaking and sobbing. Stanley glanced behind him at the door. To his surprise it had shattered into a million pieces, which were now littering the floor. In its place was a huge blackened spot on the wall that looked like dried lava.

"What happened?" Jalin cried.

_"Well. It worked,"_ the Narrator declared, sounding quite satisfied with himself. _"You ought to thank me for saving you from certain death." _

"Thanks," Stanley replied reluctantly.

"Where are we?" Jalin whimpered. "Stanley, _please _stop talking to yourself. You're freaking me out."

Stanley shook himself out of his daze. "That door is...um...magic. It teleported me to my office. Don't worry, we are completely safe here. No one can get us anymore."

"Are you _sure?" _

Stanley smiled. "Absolutely."

Jalin struggled to his feet, still panting softly, and examined the screens on the wall. "What are these?" he asked.

Stanley wiped sweat from his forehead. "There's a lot to explain, I see."

Jalin walked over and shyly took Stanley's hand, looking up into his face like a trusting child. "Thanks for saving me," he whispered. "But what are we going to do now?"

Before Stanley could reply, the Narrator spoke again. _"Stanley, along with his new companion, prepared to continue his journey to find his co-workers. But before he did so, he took Jalin to the snack bar, a room truly worth admiring – and eating in."_

Stanley grinned. And for once in his life, he was never too happy to obey.


End file.
